Beaten, Not Broken
by Drifterchick482
Summary: A young woman, trapped in a prison, escapes, but at a cost. She's taken in later by Jake, who has no idea what past she has, or why she never speaks. All later becomes clear after a run in with those she's trying to escape.
1. Prologue

Prologue:  
**Several weeks ago:**  
It was dark, dank, and smelled horrible. And the metal bars that caged her within the tiny cell didn't make her feel any safer. Sure, there were no cockroaches, or rats here, but she would have liked at least a shrew or mouse for company. Even though she wasn't alone in this cellblock, none of the girls were allowed to speak, even to the jailer, even to beg for water, or another blanket. If they did, it earned them a beating, or worse. And she wasn't about to let herself get beat for speaking out.

And tonight, just like every other night for the past several days, _he_ was in the cellblock, and _he_ was in another cell, doing something to another girl. All she knew was that it ended quickly, with a resounding **crack!**, like thunder.

Somehow, she knew she had to fight. She had to escape. And then the strange Marine man was there, in her cell, on top of her, trying to kiss her, pulling at her pants, and she was trying to escape, trying to bite, claw, kick, _anything_, but let him at her. The others had been asleep when he came, but she couldn't sleep; she never slept.

Finally, her fingers caught on a knife, and she drew it from the sheathe, and suddenly, a waterfall of red, sticky, coffee-hot blood was cascading over her hands, and onto her clothes. She shoved him away, and blindly ran, trying to escape, trying to survive.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One:   
**Now.**

It was strange, knowing what they had done, knowing they had changed something in the future; had given the greater good a fighting chance, and driving back to Jericho after the harrowing experience was a welcome relief from all the mayhem that had ensued. Jake was alert and aware, watching the roads carefully, looking for any sign of trouble, when he saw it, a limp form in the tall grass by the side of the road. He slowed the car, heart leaping in his chest.

"Jake, keep going. Whoever they are, they're dead." Hawkins warned, always the realist. But something was tugging at him to stop, like an insistent child tugging a parent's pant-leg.

"I'll only be a minute." Jake muttered.

"I'm not debating this, Jake."

"Neither am I. Once again, I'm ignoring you." Jake opened the car door, and stepped carefully onto the asphalt. He walked slowly toward the limp form, and crouched beside it, reaching out a hand to feel for a pulse. It was low, but there was a pulse. They were indeed, alive, just like that feeling he had had been telling him.

Rolling the body over, he wasn't entirely surprised to discover, that the _it_, was in fact, a _she_. A lot of women had been killed on the road in the past year by road gangs, or by wrecking their cars into something they didn't see. But there was no car near this girl at all. They hadn't passed one in miles, and there didn't look to be any ahead either. So why was she out here?

Jake had been so lost in his thoughts, that he almost leapt a foot in the air when the young woman jerked beneath his hand, and crabbed a few feet backwards, away from him. The look in her eyes was of stark fear, and a wild sort of wariness that had her on edge. She seemed to be merely startled, and once she'd calmed down, she might be a little more talkative. Or at least, she could be persuaded to come with him. Jake wasn't about to leave her on the side of the road.

"Sorry." He apologized, earnestly. "I didn't mean to startle you." It was a decent start. Not exactly how he liked to meet new people, but, it was a start anyway.

By this time, Hawkins was sitting ramrod straight in his seat in the car, unable to get out and see what was taking so long due to his injury, but able to see what was going on, at least.

The young woman looked at Jake for a long moment, her eyes still wide, like a doe's. Finally, she fell into a sitting position, something like a crouch, and regarded him warily. She wouldn't speak, - _or she can't_, Jake thought - and relied on body language as a communication technique. "My name's Jake. I saw you on the side of the road. Are you alright?" He had already given her a once over, but she could be injured in ways he couldn't tell. He wouldn't be able to see bruises beneath her shirt, or her jeans, or healing wounds either, for that matter. He had to get her to Kenchy, or to someone with some kind of medical degree.

The young woman stared at him for a long moment, as though wondering if she could trust him or not. She finally let out a short, exasperated breath – _exasperated with herself?_ Jake wondered – and shook her head.

"So, you're hurt?" He ventured.

There was a curt nod.

"Do you need medical attention?"

There was a lengthy period of thought on the matter, and the young woman tentatively placed a hand to her side, as if checking on some unseen wound. She continued a cursory examination of what hurt for a few moments, and then shook her head.

Jake didn't believe her for one second. He had a decision to make. He wasn't about to leave her behind, even if Hawkins became adamant that it was a bad idea. The girl had been injured, was probably in some kind of trouble, and he wasn't going to stand for it. "I think you might." He muttered. "Do you have a name?"

The young woman paused, and looked utterly stunned for a moment, as if the question he asked her seemed to regard some kind of 

quantum theory, and then she seemed to collapse into thought. Several overwrought moments later, horror emerged over her features, and she buried her face in her hands, as she shook her head. Memories she didn't want to bare seemed to assault her, while the ones she seemed to need most escaped her mind's searching fingers. She was lost, hopelessly lost due to something she had seen, or experienced; something she had lived. And it pained Jake to see someone in such distress.

_No name? What happened to this girl to make her forget her own name?_ Those were questions to be answered later. At the moment, he had to get her to his car.

"Look, I'm heading home with a friend. You're welcome to come with us. Or, I can drop you wherever you like. I just don't like the idea of you staying on the side of the road. It's dangerous."

The young woman blinked, her blue hues bloodshot from apparent lack of sleep, and possibly nutrition. She looked to be in her late teens, maybe her early 20's, but there was no way for him to be certain. She looked pained for a moment, as if trying to decide which would be the lesser of two evils. She finally nodded, resigned, and uncurled herself from her crouch, and stood.

Her clothes were dirty, covered in dust, and grit, and mud. She had several cuts on her hands and arms that seemed infected – he hadn't been able to see them earlier, due to her defensive position. She did, however, seem to have done a little personal grooming, as she looked somewhat clean, and her straw colored hair had been brushed recently. She might've done a little B&E to get food, and to shower. She looked pretty healthy, but, only a doctor could be sure.

"C'mon. It's alright. I'm not a serial killer, I swear." He was at least trying to joke a bit, knowing, though it was lame, it could loosen her up a bit.

The response he received was less than amused. The look on her face was a mix of horror, and confusion, and anger, and exasperation, as she rolled her eyes a few moments later, as if to say, "That's not funny."

The thing that was getting to him most was the fact that she wouldn't speak. What had she seen that had caused her to become so silent?

He reached out a hand to help her from the ditch, and after a brief moment of hesitation, the young woman took his hand. She looked up at him with Bambi eyes that were so trusting of him, that it might break his heart if he gave her reason not to believe him. But in that moment, he thought she knew she'd found a friend.

Okay, so, I might redo this later on, but this is what I have so far. It's both the prologue, and first chapter. Reviews would be great. 3  
-A.


	3. Chapter 2

Getting the young woman into the car after she'd seen Hawkins was a little daunting, but eventually, after about 30 minutes of coersion and reassurance, she finally crawled in. And she had been sleeping ever since. She was still asleep when Jake pulled up to Jericho Medical and she remained that way even as she was being treated by Kenchy. The wounds on her hands and arms were, in fact, mildly infected, but with antibiotics, she would be alright. But there was something else wrong with her that Kenchy discovered upon looking at her legs, and feet.

After removing her shoes, he noticed that one of her socks was stained with blood. Jake watched as Kenchy removed the sock, and cringed upon seeing that she was missing a toe. It looked like it had been clipped off with wire clippers, or a blade of some sort. Another question raised, without an answer to follow.

The wound seemed to be long healed, but the edges looked ragged. An unnecessary amputation. Kenchy stared at it for a long moment, confused, not understanding why anyone would want to lose a toe. Or why anyone would cut one off out of spite.

"I don't get it, Jake. The amputation was unnecessary. Her feet show no signs of frostbite, or anything even hinting at the need of her toe being removed. Something strange is going on with her. Does she have a name?"

"She doesn't remember." Jake replied. "I'll watch her, but I need to know if I can trust you to help her if she needs it." Jake looked Kenchy in the eyes, gauging his reaction, watching for some sign that the man was spooked enough to blanche and refuse, but Kenchy surprised him.

"You have my word." His reply was almost immediate. Jake's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly.

_I'm holding you to it. Not that it's worth much, considering your track record, and how easily coerced you are._ He thought. But again, he had a _feeling_ that Kenchy was being truthful. Kenchy was careful to replace the girl's socks and shoes, and careful not to disturb her as she slept.

"Be careful with her. Traumatic experiences usually leave marks in the psyche." Kenchy warned.

_Don't I know it..._ Jake thought.

Jake, knowing most people wouldn't take her in, just as a precaution, took her to his home, and settled the girl in the guest bedroom. He also figured that she wasn't going to trust anyone else. Yet another reason why he brought her to his home. She was so timid, and scared, that he almost _knew_ that she had lived through something horrific enough to make her fear people, to distrust them, and maybe even forget her own name.

He watched her sleep, checking on her regularly, and checking the bandages, to see if they needed changed. They hadn't, yet. But as he watched her, he noticed that though she was usually still, every so often, she would twitch, or jump, but she hardly ever made a sound. Maybe she was mute. It wasn't unheard of, but still. He had a feeling that she could speak under the right circumstances. He just wasn't certain how to get it out of her.

He kept careful watch, making a point to stay within hearing distance of the house, in case she woke screaming. He was explaining things to Emily, when the young girl made an appearance in the living room, her eyes barely open, her hair tousled, and her clothes rumpled. She walked in in her socks, and Emily gestured to the bloody sock. Jake shrugged, but turned to the girl.

"Hey. How d'ya feel?" He inquired, looking at her curiously. The young woman just blinked, and shrugged, staring at him, blankly, and then shuffled off, and in the direction of the kitchen. Jake followed, a few steps behind, and stood in the door way, watching her, as she stood in the middle of the kitchen and looked around, as if memorizing the layout.

"You remember anything yet?" He asked, gently. "Your name?"

The young woman turned to look at him, and shook her head. She peeked around him, as if to make sure no one else was in hearing distance, and then inspected the kitchen for any open windows or doors. Satisfied she wasn't going to be attacked, she turned back to Jake. "I remember." She murmured. "Unimportant things." Her speech was broken, her voice husky from lack of use. "Not my name. Only that I escaped."

_Escaped? Escaped __**what**__?_ Jake wondered. More questions and no answers! This was beginning to get just mildly frustrating. But it took time for someone to get over a trauma enough to start living normally again. Jake knew that from experience. But to escape something, and not be fully rid of it. Was someone coming after her?

"Is someone after you?" Valid question, but apparently it wasn't worthy of a verbal answer. The young woman just looked at him, eyes betraying the sarcasm her voice would not. They said: "Ya think?"

Jake winced. What had she done to incur this? It wasn't like she was a murderer. Or a serial killer. She looked to be in her 20's. She was still young. And to not know her own name? What had she gone through? More importantly, why was someone after her?

"Why?"

"I told you. I don't remember." She winced, as though speaking itself would cause her physical pain. Jake was uncertain how to continue. "I understand. I need. A name." The young woman blurted. And then paused. "You can. Call me. Chase. On account of. My... issue." She slid onto a stool behind the bar that divided kitchen and dining room, and slumped in her seat. Her cornflower hues were pained, and hopeless, as though she had just done something to destroy herself. Again, the question rose: What happened to her?

Jake would find out. No one deserved to live this way.


End file.
